


At Last

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, First Time, Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:05:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, John and Sherlock come together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Last

The night was cool, autumn just turning chill. John had watched Sherlock closely over the last months, watching him heal while they schemed and planned. Sometimes he wondered about Mary, but this was where he needed to be. He knew that now, beyond all doubt.

It was late. They’d been working on a case and John knew that Sherlock was healed enough for what he had in mind. He’d sent Sherlock down to Mrs. Hudson’s for some sugar and started the record as Sherlock’s steps drew near.

Sherlock stopped in the doorway  and blinked. John was standing in the middle of the flat, no nervousness on his face, just sure confidence. The lights were turned down, leaving the fireplace as the primary source of light, flickering across John’s face. John wasn’t nervous, but Sherlock felt his own stomach flip as he recognized the tune. “Etta James…” He started.

“That’s right.” John stepped forward and took the sugar from him and set it aside. “Come on Sherlock, dance with me.”

Sherlock took his arms. They’d practiced for the wedding. Now, as then he took Mary’s place, letting John lead as they danced slowly in the firelight, feet soft on the rug. Sherlock let the words wash over him, knowing they were John’s words for his feelings. And Sherlock knew that he felt the same. He’d known that since he’d returned, or perhaps somewhere along those lonely two years.

Holding John a little closer, Sherlock inhaled his scent, closing his eyes. John held him a moment longer, then as the song ended, leaned up to kiss him. The world froze around them. He relaxed into John’s arms, trusting.

“That’s right,” said John softly. “I’ve got you.”

The record hissed, but neither of them noticed as John took his hand and led him down the hall to the bedroom. Sherlock bit his lip, wondering if he’d be what John was expecting. John gave him a soft smile as he started undressing him. “It’s you, Sherlock. Always you.”

Sherlock reached up and ran a hand through John’s hair. “You keep me right.”

John kissed him again, soft and sweet and tender. Sherlock’s mind stuttered as it tried to come up with more adjectives. The cool air touched his skin and he moaned. John’s finger traced the still fresh scar on his chest. “I know I’m still legally married. I know what our plan is. I need this, Sherlock.”

Sherlock swallowed. “I understand.”

John searched his eyes for a long moment. Sherlock could see the pain and the desire. He leaned in to kiss him, wanting to take away all the torment. This was right. This was what would have happened if he’d stayed instead of running. If he’d trusted John Watson the way he should have.

Pushing Sherlock’s shirt from his shoulders, John guided him back onto the bed. Sherlock moaned as mouth and teeth explored his skin. He knew in that moment that he wasn’t the first man John had been with, but it didn’t matter. It only mattered that John was here. He ran his hands along John’s shoulders, feeling the scar under his hand, the strength, the solidity.

John raised his head to nip at his lips before sliding his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth, hands pushing down trousers, releasing his erection. “John,” breathed Sherlock, both hands now in John’s hair. Blonde and silver in the dim light.

And then John’s cock was slotting next to his own and he was rolling his hips and Sherlock’s head went back as he cried out in pleasure. This was so much more than transport. John whispered encouraging words as he moved them together, the song echoing still in Sherlock’s head.

Reaching for the side table, John dug the lube out of the drawer. “This okay, Sherlock?”

“Yes,” whispered Sherlock, watching his hand move down his body. “ _Please_ , John.”

His slicked finger pushed its way inside. Sherlock moaned and spread his legs, wanting to give John everything. Observations fluttered through his head and vanished. John was fingering him. John was spreading him open. _John_ was going to penetrate him. He rocked against his thick fingers and keened with need.

“Shhh, it’s okay, love.” John withdrew his fingers and slicked his cock, lining up and pushing inside with agonizing slowness.

“More,” begged Sherlock, dragging blunt nails down John’s back. Everything had contracted down to the point where their bodies connected.

John thrust hard, deep. Sherlock cried out, wrapping his legs around his lover’s hips. John wrapped a hand around Sherlock’s cock, starting to thrust in earnest. He leaned down and nibbled Sherlock’s ear. “Mine,” he whispered.

“Yours,” moaned Sherlock, eyes screwed tightly shut.

“Look at me,” ordered John, raising his head.

Sherlock slowly opened his pale eyes. His heart nearly seized at the depth of affection he saw in John’s eyes. The surety. Whatever else might happen, Sherlock knew he would always have this moment, would lock it up tightly in his mind palace in the room marked ‘John’. Rooms. And now there was one marked ‘John in bed’. It was adjacent to the one marked ‘John loves me’. Sherlock leaned up and kissed him, wanting his lover to swallow him whole.

John groaned and moved a little faster. He was close. Sherlock squeezed around his cock and John groaned again. “I should have used a condom,” he muttered, the practical side kicking in.

“I’m clean,” promised Sherlock. “I want you to fill me.” He wanted the warmth of John to fill him and cover him. Sweat ran down their chests.

“Almost there,” promised John, stroking him faster.

“John,” Sherlock gasped, just on the edge.

“Come for me.”

Sherlock’s eyes fell shut  as he came with a whimper, clutching at John, scoring his skin.

By the time he could breath again and open his eyes, Sherlock was aware John had come as well, resting his head on his shoulder, sated, breathing softly. Sherlock leaned down and kissed the top of his head. John raised his head and gave him a beatific smile. “I love  you.”

“I love you too.”

John dropped his head back down again. Sherlock traced patterns on his back, listening to him breath. The worst of the danger still lay ahead, but if nothing else they would always have this. Softly, in his mind’s eyes, Etta James sang Sherlock to sleep, and for once in his life he was satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> The [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-cbOl96RFM) if you somehow don't know it. And thanks to beautifullyheeled, loveanddeathandartandtaxes and type_40_consulting_detecive for reading.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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